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Chapter 33

Phoenix

I can’t do this.

Fuck, I can’t do this.

I can’t breathe properly, everything feels wrong. I stare at the house across the street, my hands clenching into fists all by themselves.

With its endless row of brick houses, Back Bay always feels a bit like another world. It’s too tidy here, too idyllic for a big city. All paved sidewalks, old-fashioned streetlamps, and window boxes with flowers.

It’s been far too long since I was last here, but nothing has changed. Everything is the same as it used to be. At least, that’s how it looks. But I know that everything has changed in this house, which I’m afraid to enter.

It’s October now, so it’s cold, but I’m still sweating. Unfortunately, it’s not because of the thick hoodie I’m wearing under my coat, even though I briefly considered wearing a shirt and jacket to make a good first impression. Except that wouldn’t have helped, because that’s not what this is about. Brittany and Clark have known me since I was seventeen.

The nervousness has been weighing on my stomach for days, along with the almost irresistible urge to pack my suitcase and disappear without a word because this isn’t going to work out anyway. They’ll never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself, after all, so how could they even consider it?

Phoenix, please.

I close my eyes just for a moment, trying to ignore the desperate pain that pierces my heart. But it can’t be ignored, it never can. Not at times like this. Not when I expect it, like an old friend.

Phoenix, please.

My fingernails dig into my palms so hard, it should hurt, but I feel nothing. All I feel is the burning inside me. The barbed wire around my heart and the noose around my neck. Both are tightening. Not slowly, not bit by bit. Inexorably.

Phoenix, please.

Isabel’s voice in my head is still familiar, but now it’s also somehow strange at the same time. I want to let her go and hold on to her, lose myself in her and forget her.

A familiar burning fills my eyes. Fuck, no, I’m not going to start crying now. But being here, standing in front of this house, brings it all back. Just like the night over a week ago when I told Lia about Isabel.

The constant arguing, the tears, the slamming doors, and the decisions we made even though we shouldn’t have. Endless discussions about the same topics, fears, hopes, desires, and dreams. No agreements, no compromises, and a fragile kind of peace every time one of us had to give in. It should have been me. And then came the end.

My heart is beating too fast, pounding violently against my ribs like it wants to leap out of my chest. But it’s trapped, and there’s no escape. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and every muscle in my body is so tense that it feels like it’s going to tear.

One step, just one step. I have to take one damn step. That’s always the hardest part, isn’t it? The first fucking step.

Stop being such a damn coward. If you didn’t want to do this, you shouldn’t have come. Not here, not to Boston. You could have holed up in New York and pretended that no one was waiting for you here.

The problem is, I’m not sure anyone is waiting for me here. I’m afraid they aren’t.

Then leave, get out of here.

I want to give in to the urge so badly that it almost tears me apart. But I can’t.

Phoenix, please.

I can’t leave, I can’t stay. I can’t do anything, damn it.

Coward. Irresponsible coward.

I close my eyes, trying to ignore the voice in my head. The voice of my conscience, or my guilt, or my fear, who knows? It doesn’t matter; I just want it to shut up. I want it to leave me alone.

It’s okay, you’re not alone. I’m with you.

Another voice, gentler and softer. Lia’s. Lia’s voice is in my head. And that’s not good. Not now. But it’s there, and it makes it a little easier for me to breathe again, even though she’s not here, even though I’m completely alone. Even though everything is awful.

It’s not weakness to decide for yourself.